his own presence in these duties of his sublime ministry.

This was the school in which Camus learnt to control and master himself, to
curb his natural impetuosity, and to subjugate his own will, and thus to
acquire one, in our opinion, of the most certain marks of saintliness.

The Bishop of Geneva was not contented with receiving his only son at
Annecy. He often went over to Belley, and spent several days there in
his company. These visits were to both Prelates a time of the greatest
consolation. Then they spoke, as it were, heart to heart, of all that they
valued most. Then they encouraged one another to bear the burden of the
episcopate. Then they consoled each other in the troubles which they met
with in their sacred ministry.

It never cost the younger Bishop anything to yield obedience to the elder,
and no matter how great, or how trifling was the occasion which called for
the exercise of that virtue, there was never a moment's hesitation on the
part of the Bishop of Belley.

The latter, indeed, considered the virtue of obedience as the one most
calculated to ensure rapid advance in the spiritual life. He tells us that
one day at table someone having boasted that he could make an egg stand
upright on a plate, a thing which those present, forgetting Christopher
Columbus, insisted was impossible, the Saint, as Columbus had done, quietly
taking one up chipped it a little at one end, and so made it stand. The
company all cried out that there was nothing very great in that trick.
"No," repeated the Saint, "but all the same you did not know it."

We may say the same, adds Camus, of obedience: it is the true secret of
perfection, and yet few people know it to be so.